The Protection of My Clan
by MissDevon
Summary: Claire keeps her promise to go through the stones, but she doesn't go alone. With Murtaugh and children as reminders of her time with Jamie, things with Frank are not as easy as they might have been. But things aren't always as straight forward as they seem and sometimes to protect people secrets are kept. What happens when the "Randall" children figure/find them out? AU J/C/F
1. I edited

I

They were gone.  
They were all gone.  
The world that that I had come to belong to and believe was my destiny had disappeared with a roar and turned to dust with a push through the rocks that had sent me through them almost four years prior and now I had lost it all.

There was nothing for me here.  
Nothing but a promise I had been forced to keep.  
The thought of returning to the husband I no longer knew would even want me brought to mind a night in Paris when there was still hope of a fool's mission.  
How could I have been so foolish to believe that we could change the history of the world with my limited knowledge of history and our wits?  
A fool's errand, built on romantic notion that weren't at all practical.

And now, there was nothing.  
They were nothing.  
My husband- my second one, the one who held my heart- was dead and so was our daughter.  
Two hundred years gone.  
Him at Culloden and her- had she gotten away?  
Had Murtaugh been able to spirit her away to Paris and Louise as we had planned or was she collateral damage at only two-and-a-half years old?

And I was here.  
At the base of Craig Na Dun, another promise dying on my lips.  
To wait till dawn came until I made my way back to Inverness and the life I'd begin there for myself and the child I carried….


	2. II edited

II

Jamie sat slumped against the stone staring across the vacant ground to the stone he had pushed Claire through. He knew that he had had no choice. He would be dead in the morning, but G-d he felt like part of him already was.  
Hell, if he didn't know he was to die on tomorrow's dawning, he wouldn't be able to live with the pain that was to come.  
His wife was gone, and he prayed to a G-d he hoped heard him that she had passed safely back to her time; her and the bairn she carried. But he still had one more duty to attend to.

He shifted slightly as he felt the wind change and caught the sound of approaching footfalls. He moved only his hand as his Godfather crested the hill and placed Faith onto her feet and she ran towards him full throttle.

He closed his eyes in agony.  
Any way he looked at it she would be gone in minutes as well.

He had prayed all the way up the hill that he would have the strength to do this.  
But he wasn't strong.  
He was weak and a coward.  
He had had to push Claire into the stones so he wouldn't give into the temptation to pull her to him and run away from the battle that waited him as well as the prices on their heads that would chase them after the battle was done. Red Jamie and the Stewart Witch- they would have to run for years to come if they somehow managed to evade the British and he hadn't wanted that life for Claire when it was just him who would go to the gallows if captured. He'd be damned if he'd see her hanged for his decision not to try to challenge the letters Charles had forged his name to and her faithful support of him. And he'd take his dirk to his own wrist, mortal sin or not, before he allowed Faith to be used against either of them in any sort of trap….

He was pulled from his musings as the little girl in question threw her sturdy little body into his chest and nestled into it. "Loud, Da," she muttered as she took up her usual position and popped her finger into her mouth.

Jamie looked down at her in slight surprise, but held her tighter to him. He had confirmation of one suspicion. But did he dare to try to send her to Claire on her own? he wondered as he buried his head in her hair.

"Where's Claire?" Murtaugh asked as he took in the area, pulling uncomfortably at his ear.

"She's gone…" Jamie replied morosely as he kissed Faith's head and swiped back her hair.

"Gone? Where…" the older man started to ask, and then taking in the train of his Godson's gaze stiffened. "Oh. Lad… I… I suppose she'll be safe there."

"With him…" Jamie spit out. "I made her promise to go back to her first husband… he'll get to be with her… raise them…"

"Them?" Murtaugh questioned as he squatted down in front of Jamie.

"She's with child again… It's the only reason she went… The only argument I could win with… She didn't want to leave Faith…." Jamie explained, unable to meet the other man's eyes as he tried to commit all he could of his child to his memory. The weight of her in his arms. The warmth of her breath against his collar bone. The way she wrapped her fingers in between his own…

"You still want the Lass to go to the Abbey and then onto France? Louise?" Murtaugh wondered, noting that something was… off… with Jamie.

Jamie sighed: "There may be another way."

"Well tell me somewhere out of this bloody wind."

"What wind?"

"The one making this blasted racket."

Jamie stared at that: "You hear it then? The buzzing she called it."

"Have you gone daft?"

"There's na wind."

"The lass was complaining about it too. It scairit her."

Jamie swallowed. "She can go to her then. She won't be alone," he muttered as he looked up at his godfather. "You once said you would do anything I asked of you."

"Jamie…"

"I promised her the protection of my family and clan- will you help me keep my vow?"

"I don't ken what you mean."

"The stones. I think that you can go through them too. Faith as well. I want you to try. To try to take her to Claire and stay with them. To be there for them when I can't. To be there for my bairns as you have been there for me. Will you keep your vow, man?"

Murtaugh shook his head: "You were smaller than Faith when I made it to you and I believe I made a promise to protect Faith, when you couldn't, in the hospital- while you were in the Bastille and Claire was so ill. So saints help me… I'll keep my vow. I'll try to take your daughter to her Mam. But Claire…."

"I made her promise to wait until dawn till she went to Inverness. Something told me to at least hope that they could be together. That Faith could also be somewhere that was safer than here will be when the war ends."

"What if you're wrong?"

"Then she'll at least have you," Jamie said. "And it's not as if Claire will ever be coming back… she'll never know we tried this or that you took Faith to some other time, even if it wasn't hers. She said she was going to think of Frank to get back to the right time. So maybe if you focus on her…" Jamie said as he handed his daughter to Murtaugh and rose to his feet, slowly unwrapping his plaid. At the older man's raised eyebrow he said simply: "she won't remember me. I want her to have something of mine…"

"Do ye think Claire will allow her to forget ye?"

"T'won't be her decision now, will it?" Jamie asked. "Not many a man will raise another man's wean. Still fewer with their memory about if they can help it."

"Tis Claire will be involved."

"And a relative a Randall's."

"Och," Murtaugh conceded. "But Alex was a different man... and Mary…"

Jamie nodded: "Claire said he's a good man. For her sake…"

"I won't let him hurt her. You have me word."

"There's more than one way a lass can be hurt, Godfather. Somehow, I think I've done the worse of it already."

"Are you certain you don't want to try yeself?"

"I can't hear what you can. Would to G-d that I could," Jamie sighed. "Besides, I promised Dougal I'd return in return for the time to get them away. I will not go back on me word."

"It wouldn't be like he would be able to go after you, now would it?" Murtaugh asked.

Jamie only shook his head as he unpinned his broach. "It's a manner of honor."

"Something the man knows nothing of."

"But I do," he replied. "My place it here. I'm to die with my men on that moor tomorrow. There's no changing that. But I have gotten my family and the Lallybrook men to safety. Fergus will find a home with Jenny and Ian. Claire will return to the life she had before Crag Na Dunn, and Faith will have you.  
And somehow, as I promised Claire, I promise you, if it takes me the 200 years, I will find you. I know I must serve my time in purgatory, for I have lied, and stole, and killed. But for all that, G-d gave me a rare woman and a child that I have loved well- and that has changed the balance of my life. For them I give my life and, do so happily, that they shall live.  
And should the only way I be able to see my children grow be as a spirit watching over them, then so be it. I will never leave them once I find them…"

Murtaugh nodded as Faith toddled back over to them with a forget me not in her hand. Smiling, she gave the flower to her father, as he picked her up and wrapped her in his plaid. "Even if they only believe they're auld tales, they'll have stories of you and Claire. Of ye parents and Jenny and Ian. The Frasers and Murrays will not be forgotten," Murtaugh swore, as he placed a hand on Jamie's shoulder.

"Time grows short," Jamie sighed. "I need to be headed back…"

Murtaugh nodded as he watched Jamie kiss Faith on her forehead and tell her goodbye in Gaelic. Carefully, he took her into his own arms, questioning if the red head was sure before he headed to the stone Jamie had indicated Claire had travelled through earlier. Standing in front of it, he looked back, noting that Jamie had started across the dunn. Shaking his head, Murtaugh shifted Faith to hold her tighter to his chest. "Want to go see ye Mam?" he asked.

Squealing in delight, Faith looked up at him, "Well, then lass, let's see what we can do. How about ye call for her. I think she's hiding from us. How about we try to find her…" he prompted as he took one of her tiny hands in his and extended it with his own. The stone was cool under his touch and grew louder as  
he felt himself being pulled into its sphere. The only thing he had time to think of was that he had to keep hold onto Faith and deliver her into her mother's keeping….


	3. III edited

III

There were nights when he hated his life. This was just another in a long list of them.  
For nearly four years now, he had been waiting for a wayward wife to return home. The first few months he had thought that she had been stolen from him by some infatuated patient she had taken care of in a field hospital during the war. That they were living with the consequences of yet another one of her stubborn flights of fancy, for she had not had to go off into the ditches to serve Mother England. After all, he had not only been an Officer, but a prestigious one assigned to MI6. She could have served as a nurse at some hospital on the Homefront or by volunteering at the Red Cross. She could have been a proper wife and been at home each night.  
But no.  
That was not who Claire was. Never had been, and he supposed, never would be. She had not been raised to be a lady. Instead, she had followed her uncle from dig to dig living an unconventional life and gaining an unconventional education. And wasn't that the thing that had drawn him to her? That innocent, adventuress spirit surrounding a spine of steal that Lambert had instilled in her. Because, after all, wouldn't it have been a coup to turn her into a proper lady and wife?  
But there had been no time.  
Not in the year that they had been married.  
Not in the five years that they had served their country and rarely saw each other.  
And not in the short time they had had to try to reconnect.

The second honeymoon in Inverness was supposed to give them that time.  
But he had gotten interested in the records he found there on some long gone ancestor and she had gone after some flowers- forget me nots, if he remembered correctly- and she had never returned.  
They were all sure that she had taken up with someone.  
Run out on him.  
And, yes, it would be easier to believe that for him as well.  
At least easier than what he was called into an office and told to believe almost two years ago.

When Mrs. Gramhn had told him the story of Crag Na Dunn he had been desperate enough to hold onto the old myth, what with only months having passed and no leads, but after months turned to years hope fades and you start to believe that even the most faithful of people might be a cheat and have turned to another's arms in a time of loneliness…

But then _they_ came.  
Men from another unit of MI6.  
Showed up when he was starting to get his life back on track. Happy with his post at Oxford. Seeing someone whom he was interested in and who he could see making a life out of the rubble of what was left of his. And Victoria did make him smile. She was intelligent and could hold a proper conversation. (And why shouldn't she, she was a Professor of Literature, after all.) She was also a woman he could laugh with, while still living a proper life. Yes, Victoria would certainly make a proper wife… 

But _they_ were holding him back from making that step with her.  
Them and their blasted fantastical story- of time travel and its power and his duty to step up and preserve the monarchy. To preserve the future of his country.  
All based on some stupid prophecy that he wasn't to be told fully about- need to know and all that.

And what did they have as proof?  
A billet with a picture from two hundred years ago of a man who looked like the man he had seen outside the bed and breakfast in Inverness. A man they called Red Jamie and who had somehow escaped death at Culloden.  
A second of a woman who looked eerily like his wife- a woman they called the Stewart Witch- who just disappeared and was never heard from after Culloden.

Or so they said.

He had his orders.  
Do not research them.  
Do not search out more information on whom or what they are.  
Just accept her back and pretend not to believe her tale of time travel (because really, what reasonable person would?) and go on as before.  
Report on her activities.  
On what she does with information she finds out and how she plans to go back and change things- because she must not. History must not be revised…

But Frank Randall was no fool.  
He might follow orders, but he did not follow them blindly.  
He had seen too much damage caused by men who were "only following orders."  
He was a man of principle.  
He would be smart if he stayed and did their bidding.  
He would bide his time, and then he would ferret out the information he needed to.  
He was a Jacobite scholar, after all, and friends with the man who had the best scholarly collection of books on the subject in the region….

But that was of course if she came back.

Tomorrow was yet another anniversary of Culloden and it was going on four years that Claire was gone. If Mrs. Gramhn and her stories were anything to go by if Claire were to return she would by year's end and if not… Well, he was nothing but pragmatic. He was already making plans to take a position at Harvard (so what if it was arranged by MI6?) and he would not be going alone. If Claire had not returned he still had his grandmother's ring and he couldn't help but think that it would look quite lovely on Victoria's hand….


	4. Chapter 1 (edited): Confessions

_I know you  
You're not from here  
I've waited for you to appear  
To take my breath away  
And make me weep  
You're not from here  
Not from this here and now  
Just a touch of yours  
And I fly... and I fly... and I fly_

 _I can't get used to missing you  
If this is how it's gotta be  
I need an angel to watch over me  
No one can hold the hands of time  
But I can hold you in my mind  
Over and over like a melody  
For now  
I'll stand still  
For now  
I'll be filled by the memory of your skin_

 _I know you  
You're not from here  
You don't belong to lies and tears  
The greatness of your soul  
Makes me weep  
You're not from here  
Not from this here and now  
Just a touch of yours  
And I fly... and I fly... and I fly_

The wind whipped around her, but Claire didn't care. She curled into herself on the edge of land where the woods meet meadow near Crag Nu Dunn, trying not to recall that not quite four years pass she had sat in the woods close by next to Frank watching as Mrs. Graham and the other women called the sun in a Pagan ritual. She didn't want to remember that. Didn't want to think of the 1940s and the world that awaited her when she walked away from the stones and back into Inverness and the world that she had left behind.  
She wasn't even sure that there would be anything left for her. Although she had promised Jamie she would come back here and to Frank she wondered what had possessed her to. Would Frank even be waiting for her? After all, she had moved on in these past three and a half years, why wouldn't he? Wouldn't they have thought her faithless and feckless? Just another woman run off with some lover she had met during the War? Ifrinn! Hadn't Frank already accused her of having had a lover while they were apart? Hadn't she heard the rumors floating around camp that he had had a few of his own (not that she believed them; not uptight, righteous, and virtuous Frank Randall!) But a total of nearly nine years was a long time to go without companionship and human touch. She couldn't blame him if he had found comfort in someone else's arms- and it would be hypocritical of her to do so since she was returning to him pregnant with another man's- al bit her husband's child.

And how the hell was she supposed to explain _that_ without getting herself sent to a sanitarium and losing said child, she wondered. Where the hell was she supposed to say that she had been for the last three and a half years? That was how much time had elapsed here too, she assumed. But what if it hadn't? What if it was less? Or more? The only idea she had on how the blasted stones worked was based on the bard's stories, and they only told the one part. The part of the lass who came to a world she didn't know and adapted and grew to love it until she slipped back through Crag Nu Dunn and went back to her own time- at least that's where they assumed she went. What if she hadn't even made it back to 1940-whatever? What if she was in some other world all alone and now expecting a baby she had to keep safe… suddenly overwhelmed and feeling so very alone tears started to stream down her cheeks and she buried her head in her knees praying for a miracle that would mean she wouldn't be facing this new miracle alone. She so wanted Jamie right now, but, God , she admitted, she would just settle for any familiar, friendly face, for she knew Jamie wouldn't turn from the fate that awaited him on Culloden Moor. He wouldn't even try. Not even for her…

hr

Frank smiled as he opened the door to his small apartment to Victoria. "I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm glad you asked me to come," she replied as she stepped in a smile on her lips and laughter in her eyes.

"I've missed you," he admitted as he shut the door and moved to follow her, kissing her softly on the lips as he walked her backwards to the couch.

"Frank," she muttered against his lips as she pulled slightly back. "Really? Can't we at least have dinner first?"

"Hmmm…" he remarked as he pulled back and pulled down on his suit jacket. "I suppose. I did get take away."

"From the little place I like down the road?" she wondered as she played at patting down his lapels, a slight smirk forming on her lips.

"Where else?" he asked stepping away from her and sidestepping to pour them both a drink.

Victoria laughed as she sat on the couch, allowing her skirt to inch up slightly higher than necessary: "you must really want to impress me tonight, Professor Randall," she teased to regain his attention.

"Oh, but I always want to impress you, Professor Hunter."

She leaned forward shaking her head as she grabbed his hand with one of her own hands and reached up with the other to bring his head down towards hers: "you know you don't have to try so hard. You always impress me."

"Hmmm… I thought you wanted dinner…" he muttered against her lips as he pushed her back and down on the couch.

"I think I want the appetizer first…"

hr

Murtaugh felt that he had been thrown from and then trampled by a horse as he lay on his back and stared at the silvery grey sky, a curse on his lips as he tried to move his limbs. Feeling his empty arms, he was immediately alarmed and came to full awareness of where he was and why he was there.

He might not have any clue of what time he was in, but he knew what he had to do. Pushing to his feet, he immediately looked round for his young charge, a lump forming in his throat when he didn't see her at first glance in the clearing- but then he stood trying to take in the area, his senses on alert, and heard the slight whimpering being carried on the wind over the howling of the peculiar stones. Moving quickly, he rounded the closest one and found Faith lying on her father's plaid crying. "Well of course she's crying, it wasn't exactly easy on your body. How do you think she feels?" he chastised himself as he went to her and picked her up, making sure the plaid was wrapped around her to keep the chill away. "Much, mo naoidheachan, much" he said rubbing her back soothingly as he stood and waited a few moments for her to nestle into his shoulder comfortably. "Let's go see if we can find your Mam, hmmm?" he said into her hair as he took in the area and got his barings. With no other clues as to how to find Claire he headed in the direction she had taken the last time and headed to where he thought the spot where he found her was. He wasn't sure if he was in the right time or could find her, but he did have some information.

She had been a nurse and was married to a descendent of Black Jack Randall's- a man who was apparently even more of his double than his brother Alex had been- named Frank Randall. In this time and world she was Claire Beauchamp Randall. It was his job and duty to find her and reunite her with her daughter and to stay and protect them. He had sworn to his godson he would, the only problem was the Clot-heid hadn't taken into account that her other husband probably wouldn't take kindly to another man being assigned the task of protecting his wife. He doubted Jamie would if he was in this Randall's shoes and, from what he had heard of him from Claire, he had the distinct impression that the man was an arse. It didn't matter to him what the man thought, though. He had made a vow and the only one who might be able to make him break it was Claire herself, and that would only be if she asked him to go back and try to save Jamie…

hr

"Ciamar a tha thu?" a voice asked Jamie as he started to take off his sword. Stopping short, he spun round to see his uncle Dougal in the doorway. Shaking his head he spread out his arms and stood staring the older man down.

"Come here to finish the job? Go ahead? I won't stop you," he challenged standing there calmly.

"Don't be daft boy. I'm not going to kill you!" Dougal scoffed.

"Ye tried hard enough to earlier."

"You were planning to kill Prince Tcharlach with that witch you married!"

"Do _not_ call her that!" Jamie said moving quickly to stand toe to toe with his uncle. "And we were doing nothing of the sort. We were talking of foolishness. Ideas born of desperation!" he explained deflating slightly.

Dougal shook his head in exasperation: "we will win tomorrow!"

"How? Tell me how you think we're going to win tomorrow, Dougal? Ifrinn! We have no horses of worth because they've been eaten. The soldiers' are starving. Morale is almost nonexistent. There are deserters all around us!"

"I have to say I'm surprised you aren't one of them."

"I gave my word to fight. I will die on that field tomorrow with your or Simon's troops."

Dougal walked around the room to the small table and sat on it: "did you get the child to safety?"

"Murtaugh is getting her to somewhere where she will be safe."

"Good." Jamie raised an eyebrow at that as he turned to look at his uncle who shrugged: "so I have grown fond of the lassie"

"You thought this was no place for her."

"And it wasn't. War is no place for any child."

"And where should we have left her? At Lallybroch? To never even get this short amount of time with her?"

"Claire could have stayed behind with her like a proper wife!"

"And how many of the men who will be fighting beside you and I tomorrow would already be in their graves if she hadn't been with us?"

"Och," Dougal grunted. "You would have been better with a woman who knew her place- or who ye have taught it!"

Jamie shook his head: "you would have had less luck then I in that department, Uncle. At least she learned to heed me from time to time," he replied testily. "And she never would've gone to your bed. Had I not been saved from Wentworth there was already someone who was willing and planning to marry her to keep her from ye."

"You know about?"

"Aye, Claire and I rarely kept secrets. From the beginning we agreed to honesty. We might have kept things to ourselves but we never lied to each other and told each other of possible dangers."

"And she saw me as a danger did she?" Dougal asked slightly amused.

"Why?" Jamie demanded. "Why would you have me marry her and then ask to bed her? What could either of us have done to you to have you… I wanted her from the moment I saw her and loved her from the first night we spent in Leoch, when she tended me and ended up crying in my arms due to her lonieness."

"Do ye think I didn't see how you two looked at each other?" Dougal asked. "It was convenient and expedient that I had you two marry. You saved her from Randall and I blocked you from becoming Laird of the Mackenzies."

"I never wanted that. I always wanted to go home to Lallybroch and my own land and people- which your lies about Jenny kept me from."

"Would you have liked to be hangit!" Dougal roared as he cuffed Jamie on the back of the head. "It was the easiest place for Randall and the others to find you and find ye there they did!"

"I was betrayed!"

"Aye! Soft hearted and soft headed!" Dougal denounced. "Like your mother, God rest her soul," he paused and looked at Jamie after automatically making the sign of the cross at mentioning his late sister. "How you felt about Lallybroch- that and more is how I feel about Leoch. I am War Chieftain only because Colum was so ill. I gave up my own lands to help his flourish. I didn't get to watch my daughters grow because of my vow to him. To be his body. To collect his rents. To protect what was _his._ And how did he repay me?" he huffed. "He took credit for you. Turned you away from me."

"Any turning away I might have done was ye own fault, Uncle, because my loyalty lied with my name first and what I believed in."

"But, you had to vow to do _his_ bidding. He took _both_ my sons. The one I fostered and the one I sired. And then- then to add to it, he killed my mistress. And it wasn't just her he had prepared for the pyre."

"I could only save one of them," Jamie admitted.

Dougal nodded as he looked down at the floor: "and you saved your wife. I can't fault you for that. Geillis was a murderess, and perhaps in time would've killed me as well, but he put my child to death as well. He banished us knowing what he was going to do!" he said as he pounded the table with a fist. "Gave them no recourse…" Dougal turned angry eyes on Jamie: "him ye can forgive these trespasses, but me- ye forgive none?"

Jamie swallowed hard: "I hold no ill will for either of you."

"Oh aren't you the good Catholic!"

Jamie shook his head: "You are my uncles. My mother's brothers. There are things you have done that I don't understand, but… tomorrow you and I will fight together on that moor. Side to side. Back to back. We will more than likely die there. I would like to know some of the reasons why things were done before then. I can't ask him as he has already gone. But you… you were my foster father. You taught me to fight. You taught me what it was to be a Mackenzie. If people thought I'd make a good Laird it was from what I learned from you and- though you might not like to hear it- me Da. I am the man I am today because of the two of you. I can't ask my Da questions tonight. I can't ask him if I did right by him. If I made him proud, or if he was ashamed of me. If it was my fault that he died. I tried to do right by all that I could. My family, my clan, my tenants, and all others who counted on me. I wanted to be a good husband and father and protect my wife and child from harm but more times than not brought them into danger…"

"Gu leoir!" Dougal interrupted him. "Your wife got into more than her share of trouble on her own and she dragged you into it with her. If ye remember it was her not staying put that had us raiding Fort Williams to get her back from that bastard Randall."

"She returned the favor by storming Wentworth to get me out."

Dougal shook his head: "You take too much on yourself, a Seamus," he went on as he placed his hand on Jamie's shoulder. "Your father didn't die that day. Yes, he fell then, but he survived long enough for us to get him home and into your sister's care and for a day or two he fought, but he was too ill…."

"Claire said it had nothing to do with the flogging; that it probably would have happened anyway…"

"For all her faults, she is a good healer. Believe her, boy."

Jamie just nodded: "there is so much unsaid."

"There always is," Dougal admitted as he dropped his hand and stared across the room at the wall: "Brian was proud of you. How could he not be?"

"I was locked up in Fort Williams being flogged almost to death when he died!" Jamie admitted with a touch of shame.

"For trying to protect your sister!"

"And I spent years on the run as a murderer."

"We cleared your name."

Jamie turned slightly in his seat on the table: "but I have killed, Uncle. And I've lied and I've stole… I've committed many a sin he would not be proud of."

"You found a way to survive," Dougal redirected as he turned his attention back to Jamie. "You found a woman who you loved- maybe I forced the timing, but he would have been happy that she was your choice and so would have your mother."

"Why did you force the timing?" Jamie asked shaking his head. "It was more than Randall. We could have moved further on and avoided him and his men."

"Sometimes I forget you have a very strategic mind. Fine. Colum had already picked out a wife for you. She was a child and as I once heard Murtaugh say, you needed a woman to match you to reach your full potential. By forcing the time and having you wed to her I gave you what you wanted, foiled Colum, and made it so you couldn't be Laird because of your Sassenach. Would've worked out for all of us," Dougal admitted.

"But Colum was angered enough to think of a way to do away with two problems at once."

Dougal laughed: "oh no, he actually liked Claire. I heard tell one of your spawned lasses had heard Geillis was to be arrested and made sure that she was there with her. Colum just took advantage of the situation," he explained lapsing them into momentary silence.

"Are you afraid to die uncle?" Jamie wondered, as he picked at the warped wood of the table with his fingers

"No. And I don't believe we will. The Stewarts will rule again," the older man answered, his posture automatically strengthening with authority as he clapped a hand over his shoulder.

Jamie looked at him and shook his head: "is it wrong to say that now that they're gone I'm afraid to live?"

Dougal looked stunned at that: "they will return at some point."

"No. They won't."

"There will not always be a price on your heads. Even the English will have to give up on trying to go and hang a woman who just tended to men on both sides of the fight!"

"She won't return from where I sent her," he said then sighed. "I think I need a drink or two."

"You are not going into a battle hungover."

"I won't drink that much."

Dougal rose: "fine. We'll drink to their safe journey and see if we can find something approaching a meal then say a good confession and go to sleep. Tomorrow we fight and take Culloden."

"Yes, tomorrow we fight on Culloden…"

hr

Murtaugh stumbled slightly as he made his way down the hill near the edge of the wood where he was following fresh footprints. As he came to a stop, he took a moment to take in the whole area and took note that it was growing quieter. Standing there, he noted the sound of weeping and looked to his young charge who was looking at him somewhat contentedly. Frowning he moved in the direction of the sound, coming to an abrupt stop when he saw the huddled form on the grown. Shaking his head slightly he bent to the ground and placed Faith on her feet. "Who's that Faith?" he asked her, causing a smile to cross over the toddler's face as she took off on chubby legs and launch herself into the figure.

With a grunt, Claire automatically caught the body of the little girl and looked at her in shock, her face shooting up and eyes scanning the area, lighting with hope before landing on Murtaugh. As she stared at him surprise, confusion, and then resignation crossed her glass face. With a slight cry of despair she hid her face in her daughter's shoulder as she held the little girl tightly to her.

Slowly, folding the plaid as he went, Murtaugh crossed to them and then sat down next to Claire. Feeling him next to her and Faith fidgeting in the tight hold, she looked up and lowered her legs so she could pull the little girl onto her lap with her grubby doll. "How?" she asked, as she used the hand not holding her daughter to wipe away some of her own tears.

"You tell me," the older man replied evenly.

Claire swallowed as she leaned forward and kissed her daughter's head: "did he even try?" she wondered.

Murtaugh sighed: "said he couldn't hear them like we can. That his place was there and on the Moor tomorrow."

"I shouldn't have expected any less," she sighed as she looked at him. "And you?"

"He asked me to bring her to you and to protect you and the bairns."

"He told you?"

"Aye."

Nodding Claire fought back more tears: "did you… did you promise him?"

"Aye. I did."

"So you'll stay?"

"If ye want."

Claire looked at him: "it's not going to be easy."

"Och."

"How are we going to do this? Explain… if we tell the truth they'll think we're crazy!"

"You know more than I do how to handle things in this time, Claire," Murtaugh told her. "You have come up with good plans in the past."

"And look where it still lead us!" she said putting them in silence. Shaking her head she looked at him. "First we need to explain you… I don't have much family. My parents died when I was young. I only knew my father's brother… I suppose we can say you're an Uncle."

"Aye."

"But Frank would know different," she sighed in resignation. "He's the one we're going to have a problem with," she looked down at Faith. "I don't…"

"Best lies have some truth in them, Lass."

Claire cocked her head at him: "you found me near here. I was being attacked. Had a head injury… You took me with you and into the Highlands…" she started as she tried to smooth down some of Faith's wild curls. "I married Faith's father and he… he died in an accident, and the shock… the shock is what caused my memory to return," she said choking up and burying her head in her daughter's head. Ducking away, Faith turned and smiled up at Claire, taking her face in her chubby hands and kissing her: "no cry, Mama," she said. Nodding, Claire forced a smile and kissed her back before letting Faith cross over to Murtaugh who allowed the girl to settle in his lap.

"Is it believable?"

She shrugged: "there is a tramatic form of amnesia."

"And if they ask for specific places?"

"Ummm… we traveled a lot. You're good with horses… we say you were looking to train them… they should have been trying to rebuild the numbers of them from after the war effort so it wouldn't surprise people that you were traveling looking for work and it would explain how I wasn't found and how we didn't know Frank was looking for me.."

Murtaugh nodded: "all right. A plan then. It's getting late in the day. Let's start heading to town. Inverness, correct?"

"Jamie wanted me to wait till morning. I promised."

"He wanted to see if he could get Faith to you somehow…"

Claire nodded as she looked over to her daughter then exhaled: "alright, to Inverness…I guess we'll find out what year it is then. Umm… we might see automobiles on the road, to prepare you…"

"What are they?"

"They're ummm… they're a bit like a carriage, only they aren't pulled by horses. They are run my something called an engine. It's a machine inside the front of the car- andother name for an automobile. You ride in it to get from one place to another. If someone sees us walking and they're in one they might stop to offer us a ride into town," Claire babbled as they rose to their feet and she took Faith by the hand. Murtaugh frowned slightly at that, but shrugged. He supposed if she could learn how to live in the 1700s he could learn to live in her time.

"You are going to help me figure this time of yours out, aren't ye?"

Claire nodded: "Yes."

"Fine. But know I want to be useful as something more than a protector to you and your bairns. I need to be useful."

"There are still farms and horses still need training. There are cattle- although you can't rustle them without getting arrested," she said as they started walking. "I'm sure we'll find something you can do, Murtaugh. You have many skills, we just have to figure out how to apply them to this time."

"Like you did."

"Yes, like I did."

hr

Victoria laughed as she tried to put her earing in but Frank distracted her by kissing her neck. "I really do need to get dressed you know," she said as she leaned back into his chest.

"We could just skip breakfast," he remarked.

"Oh, like we did dinner? I don't think so mister," she said as she turned around and kissed him lightly on the lips as someone started knocking on his apartment's door. "Saved by the knock," she remarked as she pulled back.

"For now," he teased, as he grabbed his suit coat off the bed and headed into the living room. "I'm coming," he called out to the insistent knocking as he shrugged into the coat. Shaking his head and muttering under his breathe, he opened the door and stared at the man on the other side in surprise: "Detective?" he said in recognition of the man who was handling Claire's case in Inverness on his doorstep.

"Mr. Randall…"

"What… what can I do for you?"

"It's what I can do for you, sir. It's about your wife's case. Perhaps you should let me in so you can sit down."

"No. You can tell me right here."

The detective looked at him and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as he turned the hat in his hands round and round by the brim. "Your wife showed up in Inverness last night…"

"She… Claire… Claire's alive and in Inverness?" Frank somehow managed to get out pass the lump in his throat.

"Yes sir."

"Was she… was she with the man I saw?" he wondered, grasping at straws that would allow him to keep the life he had formed for himself.

"No sir, but…"

"Where is she now?"

"She's being treated in the hospital in Inverness, but you should know…"

"Know what? That my wife is alive and she didn't run off on me like I told you all along, but you couldn't be bother to believe me so you wasted time chasing down a ghost that didn't even exist?" he asked angrily, as his hands balled at his sides, because surely there had to be a logically explaination to where she had been rather than what he was told.

"Sir."

"No. Thank you for telling me. I'll make arrangements to go and see her myself. You've given me the news. Your services, such as they are, are no longer need."

"Mr. Randall, you should know…" he protested as Frank shut the door on him and turned to see Victoria standing in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame of it holding her up as unshed tears shown in her eyes. Frank looked up and saw her there and cursed. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough," she replied shakily as she pushed away from the support and put as much strength into her spine as she could manage. Inhaling, she took a step towards him: "It's not like we didn't know this was a possibility. I'm happy for you, Frank. Honestly I am."

"Victoria, this doesn't mean anything. Things between us don't have to change…"

"Of course they do. Your wife is back Frank. You said so yourself…"

"What the hell else was I supposed to call her!?" he demanded as he stepped towards her. "In nine years I don't think we spent more than six months together!"

"It doesn't change that she's your wife and she's back," she replied stiffly as she started to grab up her purse and coat from the couch.

"She left me. For three and a half years she has been gone without a word!"

"But she didn't run off with the man you saw."

Frank looked down at the floor and then back up at her: "I was waiting to the end of this year… I was going to ask you to come to Harvard with me. Start over with me there as my wife…"

Victoria gasped and shook her head as she put a hand over her mouth and let the tears start to fall: "and I would've said yes. But it's not the end of the year, Frank, and you already have a wife. Start over in Boston with her," she said as she moved to him and placed a hand on his arm and kissed his cheek. "I did love you, Franklin Woverlton Randall," she said softly as she rested her forehead against the side of his for a moment as his hand came up to trap the one on his. Carefully she extracted it and pulled away, trying to ignore how he deflated as she walked out of his apartment and out of his personal life…

Victoria Hunter is an author created character. I pictured her played by Kelly Sullivan

Pictures and other multi-media can be found on the story's pintrest board it can be found with my others by searching for MissDevon Fanfiction

Song Credit: "Not From Here" Lara Fabian

Gaelic and Scott from: . and wiki/Gaelic


	5. Chapter 2: I'm Back

**Chapter 2**

Claire sat propped up on the hospital bed, her fingers fiddling the synthetic edge of the blanket as she tried to reacclimate herself to the time she was in, even as she worried for her daughter. They had been fairly lucky last night. They had only had to walk two miles towards Inverness before a car stopped for them and then, thankfully, took them to Reverend Wakefield's with few questions. Of course he had had many, but she and Murtaugh had stuck to her very basic amnesia story, which she wasn't sure that the Reverend had believed, and quite frankly she had been too tired to care. She had changed into one of her old dresses, raising Murtaugh's eyebrow at the length, and Mrs. Graham had found clothes for the man and Faith in the collection piles, before she and Faith had been whisked here on Wakefield's insistence.

She was worried about how Murtaugh was fairing without her with Wakefield, but knew the man was short on words with people he didn't know so it shouldn't be a problem. It was just something to focus on; a worry she could eventually find a resolution to. Same as any concern she had about Faith. She was sure the doctors would have something to say about the little girl's condition. Although they had bathed and cleaned her up at the Manse, she was well aware that while tall for her age, Faith was more than likely underweight. And how did she explain that? There should have been enough food and programs to help them get it for the child if they had been living in this century, but following the Jacobite army in the seventeenth there hadn't been. The Lallybroch men had often given up their shares of the 'better' more 'hearty' food for Faith's benefit. Most were father's and just couldn't see the lass go hungry. They often hid bits and she'd find them giving her some as they moved along the lines, but neither she nor Jamie had ever commented on it. Really, what was there to it anyway? She had to admit to herself that she was a little afraid that the authorities might try to take Faith from her for that reason, but she wouldn't be returning to the situation that Faith had been in, now was she?

Closing her eyes, she inhaled and fought back tears. There would be no Jamie to share things with. Instead she would be more than likely raising the child in a stable environment with Frank and, considering they had given a story of an itinerate lifestyle that was put to an end with her husband's death, she should be allowed to heep her daughter…

At the sound of the door opening she exhaled wondering what the doctors wanted now. Claire leaned further back into the pillows and opened her eyes as she shifted her head towards the sounds of the approaching footsteps. Although her mind told her it had to be Frank approaching her, she instinctively curled into herself tightly, as she reacted as if it was Black Jack Randall walking her way, until he stopped short with a cock of his head and a questioning: "Claire?"

Forcing herself to breathe and relax, she unwound her body and look towards the man who had been her husband: "I'm… I'm back," was the only thing she could think to say to him.

"And I for one am glad for that," he said as he shed his coat and draped it over his arm.

"Are you really?" she wondered as he closed the distance between them.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked as he looked down at her.

"It has been quite some time."

He nodded: "and I'm sure there are explanations to be had," he remarked as the door opened. "We are in the middle of something here," he said in exasperation as he turned to the door and took in the strange man who just stood there and stared at him and missed the little blur that made her way across the room and to the bed.

Helping her daughter scramble up onto the bed and sharing a look around Frank with Murtaugh, Claire replied simply: "yes, I suppose explanations do need to be made."


	6. Chapter 3: Introducing Faith

**Chapter 3**

Murtaugh couldn't help but think that knowing something and seeing it were two completely different things as he stood in the doorway of Claire's hospital room. It had taken the good graces of Mrs. Graham to get him here as the good Reverend couldn't see his way to allowing him to be with Claire, and now he knew why. The doppelganger of Black Jack Randell was with her, and clearly was not pleased to have their reunion interrupted. Quite frankly, he could care less, especially as it seemed that Claire wasn't comfortable with his being near her. He wondered if it was because it was unannounced or of the fact that he looked like his ancestor, as his charge rushed pass his side and to her mother all the while he held the man's stare. _Wasn't one to stand down easily,_ he noted unimpressed as Claire caught his eye: "yes, I suppose explanations do need to be made," she said causing Murtaugh to take a step forward and close the door.

Frank Randall frowned as he turned towards his wife, noticing the toddler for the first time: "wha… what in bloody hell?"

Faith cocked her head to the side and looked up and him, narrowed her eyes and huffed, before turning her attention back to the doll she was playing with at her mother's side. Claire swallowed: "Frank, this is Faith- my daughter."

"Your… daughter?" he asked looking from the child to his wife, trying to put the pieces together. For a moment he had a slight shred of hope that maybe something could be recovered from their- situation- a child could mean many things for them…

"She's three and a half, Frank," Claire said in clarification at his look, dropping her eyes to her daughter's head. Catching on that they were talking about her, Faith looked up, and smiled at the man she didn't know: "I this many," she said holding up three tiny fingers.

"I see," Frank said stepping back as if he had been slapped. "And her father?" he asked, shooting an accusatory look at Murtaugh, who only answered with a gruff: "dead," before turning his attention to Claire.

"They said the lass slept through the night and ate all her breakfast," Murtaugh told her as he kept his distance from Frank and rounded the bed, approaching her from the other side. "She was all smiles when I went to get her."

"I'm sure she was," Claire said in a monotone as she watched her. "What happened to Jenny?" she wondered as she noted that Faith wasn't playing with the doll that they had brought with them- the one named after the aunt who had lovingly made it for her.

"Mrs. Graham is giving her a cleaning. Lent Faith this one of her granddaughter's to play with."

"Oh."

"Excuse me my ignorance, but just who are you?" Frank demanded of Murtaugh.

"Murtaugh Fraser."

"Yes, because that explains a lot."

"Murtaugh is the one who found me at Craigh Nu Dunn four years ago when I was being attacked. He took me to safety and took me in and under his wing. He has been keeping me safe ever since," Claire explained.

"Yet he couldn't contact the police or me. Wouldn't allow you to either, is that it?" Frank half demanded and half accused.

"I had amnesia from the attack, Frank. I didn't remember you. We traveled for his work so I didn't know you were looking."

"And now you sudden remember," he retorted, his anger starting to slip through.

"They believe it was the trauma of losing Jamie," Claire answered refusing to look at him.

"Jamie?"

"He was Faith's father and- well, my husband…"

"How the hell can he be you husband when I am?" Frank demanded as he slammed his hand down on an end table.

Faith looked up at him and crossed her tiny arms over her chest. She pushed herself to her feet and balanced awkwardly as she challenged him: "Stop saying bad words and being mean!" Murtaugh bit his lip as he tried not to laugh and scoped the little girl up: "Bi samhach a Nighean," he started as he put her on the floor and swatted her lightly on her but before reaching over and taking her doll from Claire. "Go play with your dolly in the corner."

Faith looked around the room, her lip protruding slightly and quivering as she had no idea what was going on around her. Everything was odd. She hadn't even gotten her goodnight kiss and story from Da and while Unkie and Mommy where here he wasn't. He was _always_ with Mommy and Unkie and Fergus and Ougal were gone too… everybody she knew was gone. Shaking her head she threw down the doll and stomped her foot. "Want Da! Want Da NOW!" she cried as Claire buried her head in her hands with a muffled "Oh God."

Murtaugh bent down to her level with a simple "Seas," as he picked her up into his arms and carried her over to a nearby chair: "Da is with the angels now, Lass, but your Mam and I are here and we won't let anything or anyone hurt you or take you away from us. "Much, mo naoidheachan, much," he continued to soothe her as he rock her gently from side to side.

"I can't. I just can't," Claire muttered as she looked up, her expression showing how shattered and defeated she was. "There's no way around it, Frank. Yes, we were married. I loved you. But what Jamie and I had… he was… was my heart and soul. He gave me Faith- and the baby I carry. Can you live with that?"


	7. chapter 4: Can I?

Chapter 4

"Can I live with that?" Frank muttered as he ran his hands through his hair. "Christ, Claire. Do I have a choice? We are _married._ We made promises and vows to one and other. I am _not_ the one who broke them!"

"You act as if I had a choice, Frank. I didn't. One minute I knew who and where I was and the next everything in my life was thrown into question. The only thing that kept me from being raped on top of it all was Murtaugh. He and the men he was with gave me a home and a family. I will not allow you to make me regret it.  
I loved Jamie.  
It was a different love than what I have with you, but it was there and it was true and because of it I have my bairns. Would you have me regret them?"

"My God, you don't even sound like the woman I know!"

"Then perhaps ye never ken her well," Murtaugh said as he glared at the man. "There were two things that woman was made to be. A healer and a mother. Don't begrudge her the ability to do so."

"A what?" Frank asked.

"A healer… I was able to use what I learned in the Army along with some holistic approaches to help some of the people we came in contact with."

"Saved more than a few lives she did. A man could ask for worse in a wife," Murtaugh commented as he tried to take in Frank's measure.

"There should have been no need for her to do so. A woman of Claire's station shouldn't have to work."

Murtaugh laughed: "A woman of Claire's station, is it? Years pass Claire would've been the wife of a Laird…"

"Murtaugh," Claire tried to interject. "No, let me finish, Lass," he countered. "She would've continued her duties as a healer as the wean followed her around the estate from croft to croft or been in her skirts as the tenants came to her. She would have been beloved by most and perhaps questioned by a few of the ones who were more superstitious but that would have been her role."

"I hate to correct you, but as a Jacobite scholar, I have to disagree."

"Then perhaps you should look into the healers who followed the armies and study them."

Frank frowned at that: "that is all well and good, but it is the twentieth century and she is _my_ w _ife._ And it is about time she started acting like it."

"Meaning what Frank?" Claire wondered.

"That if you want me to accept and live with what you are claiming and to raise someone else's children…"

"I never asked you to raise…."

"Claire, we are _married_. By law they are mine. I have better manners and more honor than to walk away from a pregnant wife and her illegitimate child. "

Claire bristled at that: "Faith is not…"

"Would you prefer I let them take her and the baby away from you?" Frank asked nastily. "Do you really think that they will continue to believe this amnesia story you have weaved out of thin air."

"I received a head injury that night and Murtaugh saved me…" Claire started to argue.

"I have no doubt about that, but your face gives you away. You are hiding something."

"Am I not allowed to hold some memories close? Jamie is barely cold in the ground. Faith doesn't understand what is happening. Jesus Roosevelt Christ! I barely understand what is happening around me, Frank!" Claire unleashed, surprising him with her passion. "My world has been shattered and rearranged. I might have come back, but I am not the same woman I once was.  
I am barely hanging on here, Frank.  
The only things keeping me from going over the edge are my children and Murtaugh."

"Claire," Murtaugh chided slightly.

"No, it's true," she told him almost desperately. "Growing up I always wanted a family. I mean, yes, I had Uncle Lamb and our adventures, but I wanted something- more. I did have part of that when we first married, Frank," she admitted turning her attention to her husband. "But then the war came and…"

"You went to the front," he spit out. "You could've stayed at home, but you chose not to."

"I went where I thought I was needed," she admitted almost meekly. "Who thought it would last so long? Did you, Frank?"

"Certainly not."

Claire sighed: "it was different between us when it was over. The years between. The distance. We were trying to get pass it but then- then I went to Crag Na Dun that day and everything changed."

"You didn't come back."

"I had intended to," she said almost pleading with him to understand: "things just went wrong there and then…" she shook her head. "When I met Jamie, I fought my feelings for him. I honestly did, until one day I couldn't anymore. We had a good life together until one day he was just… gone. It was all gone.  
Now I'm back and I know I have to… we have to…" she shook her head and look down. "Lives have to be rebuilt, Frank."

"You think I don't know that?" he asked angrily. "Why would you want to include and outsider…"

"Because he's the only father I've ever had and the only grandparent that these children will," she answered him. "We can say he's an uncle… I don't know… but he remains a part of our lives."

"Or what, Claire? Do you really think that you are in any position to threaten me?" Frank asked with a harsh laugh.

"I'm sure many wonder why a woman of her position would just up and disappear on an upstanding husband like yeself," Murtaugh jumped in. "A few of the right rumors in the right ears- I mean you were a suspect at one time weren't you?"

Frank shook in fury at the man, his fists at his sides as he took a step towards him, only stopping because of the child half asleep on his lap. "You think you can force me to do what you want?"

"Probably about the same as ye thought ye could us," Murtaugh said calmly.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked angrily.

"Have a seat. This might take a while," Murtaugh smirked as Claire shook her head just wanting this to end and knowing it wouldn't anytime soon.


	8. Chapter 5: A Hero Falls

**Chapter 5**

The air smelt of blood, sulfur, and gunpowder as the ground was torn up by the men of opposing sides. He was covered in blood. Some his, most others, as he charged along the battle field, taking his last stand on behalf of a man who didn't have the honor to stand by the men who would die for his name and cause.

But that mattered not to him. As of last night he had nothing left to live for, and should he die here with his men and comrades in arms it should only be right. "Lord that she and the children be alright," he thought in an instant where the battle seemed to stop momentarily and things came into a singular focus.

Normally, for a warrior, this was a good thing. It gave him a chance to refocus, but not for him and not in this instance.  
For there in front of him was Black Jack Randall; a look of sadistic satisfaction crossing the man's face as he took in his prey and drew his sword, facing off with him. And there he was, the prey and frozen in place. He knew this would be payback for not only the injuries he had inflected on the captain in the duel, but from escaping his grasp at Wentworth. And if this was how he'd died, well then, Jamie almost welcomed it. It almost seemed fated somehow that it would be Black Jack Randall who would deal him the fatal blow.

But then he heard it.  
The unmistakable cry of the Mackenzies: "Tulach Àrd!" and all went black.

He didn't know how long a time after he awoke to find Black Jack Randall lying over him with his face frozen in a death mask that it had taken him to find Dougal. Jamie wasn't sure how he had managed to get him off of the field and to a quiet place- or as quiet a place as one could find in the middle of a raging battle, but he had. "I'm no afraid to die, Jamie. It's not painful. More to live I suspect," Dougal admitted as Jamie cradled his body on his lap.

"You're the one who said we wouldn't die today."

Dougal grunted; "So I lied. One more thing to confess," he admitted as he raised a hand to caress his nephew's cheek. "I always knew it would come down to you or me."

"Why you tried to kill me with the ax, Aye?" Jamie asked as he grabbed hold of his uncle's hand.

"You knew?" Dougal asked surprised.

"Only so many suspects, uncle," Jamie replied with a bitter sweet tone to his voice. "And aye, I forgive ye, though I don't understand ye."

"A last good confession," Dougal muttered on a strained breathe. "Do ye think she'll forgive me for it?"

"Who?"

"Ye mother of course."

"Oh…Aye," Jamie said as he swallowed back tears. "What was it ye said? Soft hearted and hard heided? Had to get it from somewhere. Ye where her brother. She would forgive ye that and more because she loved ye."

"I wronged you both many a time…"

"Aye, but you gave me Claire and the child…" he admitted. "I hope I was thankful enough to ye for that."

"You were always a good lad, Jamie," Dougal praised as he tightened his hold on his hand. "I'll watch over them for ye. Till you are reunited."

Jamie turned his head slightly as he fought his tears: "they're in good hands."

"A watchful eye from the other side can't hurt."

"No it can't."

"Will they wait for me, do ye think?"

"Who, uncle?"

"Those who I loved and wronged. Moria. Colum. Your mother?"

"Aye. Serve your time in purgatory then go to them. They will be waiting to welcome ye home," Jamie said simply. "Be at peace man. Go in peace," he entreated as he felt Dougal go limp and his last few breathe leave him.

Now alone, he allowed the tears of mourning to fall momentarily because battle would wait for no man and he had a place on the Moor.

Carefully, he laid Dougal down, and closed the older man's eyes with a gentle sweep of his hands as he moved to his knees crossing himself. "Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine. Et lux perpetua luceat eis. Fidelium animae, per misericordiam Dei, requiescant in pace. Amen" he paused to place a goodbye kiss on his uncle's forehead before he forced himself to his feet. He bypassed his own sword and took up his uncle's and headed back into battle and whatever was to come for him on the moor.

* * *

Jamie's prayer translation: Prayer for the Poor Souls in Purgatory

English

V. Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord.

R. And let the perpetual light shine upon them.

And may the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.


End file.
